


it's for your own good

by Trash-Raccoon (dragonofeternal)



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofeternal/pseuds/Trash-Raccoon
Summary: There is something twisted inside him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SetsuntaMew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsuntaMew/gifts).



There is something twisted inside him.

He doesn't know when it got there, when it knotted itself in his heart, in his gut, in his very soul, but it has been there as long as he can remember. Some days, that isn't very far back at all, memories squishing and putrefying like rotting fruit when he tries to hold on to them. He was a child once, but sometimes the concept seems foreign; the idea of "childhood" as freedom and running and playing is all mashed up with bloodshed and death and mysterious, faceless men…

She told him it was for his own good, and he believed her. 

He believed her about the violence. He believed her about the hands, always touching, invading, because he was Al Tharman's and they could guide and shape him as they pleased. Most of all, he believed her about the darkness. He believed her as he choked it down, as it infused his very being, as it… as it...

As it… Damn. The thought is gone, slipped like sand through his fingers.

There's one thing he doesn't accept, can't accept, though, and that's the way she treats Hakuryuu. He remembers a callous night with fire as hot as Gyokuen's heart is cold. He remembers Hakuryuu drifting between life and death like a poorly made paper balloon, burned and barely breathing. A casual casualty. 

And even since then, Gyokuen's eyes and hands upon him, just as they are upon Judal; too interested, too watchful. She kisses her son, and Judal feels a hot spike of possessive anger. She doesn't deserve to touch Hakuryuu, not when it burns Hakuryuu like a humiliating brand upon his lips. Not when Hakuryuu is his. 

Hakuryuu is tender. He cries and is gentle. He has a bitter pain inside him, but it's not a thick, choking black thing. Judal pities him. How can you survive in a world like this if you're gentle? This world that takes and eats and breaks and remakes has no room for things like that. So he musters up all his darkness, all his wicked, perfect depravity, and pours it down Hakuryuu's choking throat. 

There is something twisted inside of him. But this twisted thing- it is good. It is strong. And as he pours his blackness into Hakuryuu, he knows that one day his friend will no longer be a prince but a king, his king, twisted and black and strong and utterly Judal's.


End file.
